Too Pretty To Die
by Miri1984
Summary: CRACKFIC! Captain Saoirse Hawke of Serenity in the Firefly universe. OH GOD WHY DID I START THIS. I hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

_"Bethany, we are not going to die, just look at me!"_

_"Sister, you know it's too late. I shouldn't have come with you. I was never a soldier, not like you and Carver…"_

_"Sisi we can't stay here, they're about to swing round for another attack…"_

_"Sarge, you know we need to get going. She's…"_

_"Aveline I'm not leaving them! It's your _goram_ husband down there we need to get them out and to safety…"_

_"Sister," her brother's hand on her arm was firm and almost… almost kind. "It's too late." He was looking up. She looked up as well, to see the tell tale lights of those goram Alliance cruisers descending into Serenity Valley. _

_She blinked, not comprehending. _"Ta ma de,"_ she breathed. "What does it mean, Aveline?"_

_Her lieutenant come up next to her on her other side, limping slightly. "It means we've lost, Sarge," she said softly._

_It was only when the first thump of the landing cruisers shook the ground that she realised Bethany was dead._


	2. Final Word

Salvage was always risky. Risky if there were survivors. Risky if you weren't sure who else might be looking. Risky if you were near Reaver territory.

Risks went with all the parts of her job - skipping through the system on the bare minimum of fuel and supplies, trying to keep one step ahead of the bastard Alliance, skirting the edges of legality and stepping over them more often than not. Anything to keep afloat. Anything to stop them from dragging her back under the thumb of people she'd given everything to fight.

This particular brand of risk, though, hadn't been one she'd been anticipating.

_"Wo xuyao gei ta cao de shahai,"* _she muttered. There was no way that slimey lowlife didn't know about this.

"Is there something wrong with the cargo, Captain?" Aveline's voice was always so calm. Saoirse flipped the bar back over as quickly as she could and shoved it back in the crate arranging her best smile. "No. Nothin'. Just… wanna get paid. Go check in with your wife, ask her to call Fenris, find out his schedule. We want to get this to Godwin as soon as we can."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Merrill I want you back in the engine room, you need to keep that compressor coil from blowing."

"Cap'n we need a new one, I keep sayin'…"

"Can't get a new coil with no cash, Daisy," she said, forcing her tone light, and flicking at the diminutive girl's ear. "But hey! We just finished a job. Any luck and we'll get paid enough to pick one up on Persephone. Any particular colour you'll be wantin' for that?"

Merrill flashed a grin. "You know I love pink, cap'n, but I don't think they come in that."

"I'll paint it for you myself, Merrill. Just you keep Serenity in the air until we get there." She flicked the intercom. "Bell, ETA on Persephone?"

"'Bout three hours Cap'n. Is my wife down there with you or did you leave her in space?"

"She's on her way up, Bell. Let's get to Persephone and get this done, y'here?"

"Loud and clear."

"Help me with this brother?" she jerked her head to the crate, hoping that her brother, at least, wasn't as sharp eyed as Aveline. She knew the cargo wasn't what it should have been and her hands itched to throw it back out into space, but if she did that…

…they wouldn't get paid.

And if they didn't get paid, she could say goodbye to her particular brand of freedom.

"Do we have to deal with Godwin, Sisi?"

"Don't call me that on ship, Carver."

He rolled his eyes. "You're still my _sister."_

"But I'm still the Captain, and you're still annoying. And also not helping me lift this heavy crate, which is very unbrotherly behaviour."

"Awww, Captn'…" he grinned and hefted the crate into the secret compartment with barely any effort. Not real bright, but can lift heavy things, that should have been on his job sheet. Probably was. She'd been lucky to get him back from the wardens, lucky he hadn't held Serenity Valley so far against her that he'd betray his own family for a bit of coin.

Lucky. With a hold full of imprinted Alliance cargo and a ship liable to fall apart as soon as make it to the next moon. She slotted the false panel back into place herself and stood, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and reflexively checking her holster. It felt bad. Everything about this felt bad and they were running too close to the bone for things to go bad…

"Get on the wave, Carver," she said, turning to her brother. "See if you can drum us up some passengers. We'll head to Borros next, there's work to be found there, I hear, and enough people think it's worth a visit that they'll pay us to take them there."

"Captain," he said distinctly. "I thought this job was good enough to set us up for months. Do we _need _more work?"

She gritted her teeth. "We ain't close to retiring yet, brother. Not by a long shot. Gotta keep this boat running. Gotta keep ourselves fed. Never hurts to have something in the bank."

Carver shrugged. "Can't argue with that."

"Then don't."

"Aye."

Persephone stank. She'd always thought so. But it was a good stink - a stink of productivity and commerce and yeah, ok, _roasted dog _but that was all to somebody's taste even if it wasn't to hers. She'd eaten it, of course she had, eaten far worse and called it heaven because it had been _food, _but she didn't have to like it.

But it didn't smell like that in Godwin's hole of a den.

_"Zheli de xiu bu tai hao,"**_ Carver muttered.

"Sure does," Aveline said under her breath in response.

It was a particular smell. Of fear and sweat and things best kept in sewers. A smell of humanity in places it didn't want to be.

Godwin was a small, weaselly man with an ego bigger than his ridiculous hat, and unless she was very much mistaken, he was inspecting the teeth of a slave. Her fingers itched towards her gun, but she knew she was covered by at least ten others, probably more, and while shooting Godwin would be viscerally satisfying..

…it wouldn't get her paid.

"You're late," he said. Saoirse rolled her eyes.

"You're lying."

"What did you just say to me?"

"You're well aware we landed two hours before we planned to with all the goods you sent us after intact, ready to roll. It's your decision to get tetchy, say we're late. Means you're looking to put us on the defensive right up front. Which means something's gone wrong. Didn't go wrong on our end so why don't we start again with you telling us what's up?"

Godwin bared his brown teeth in what was probably meant to be a smile. "You're later than I'd like."

She smirked, and dipped her head politely. "Well I'm sorry to hear that."

That was the last time she smirked in _that _particular conversation.

She had time to wonder, while Godwin waved the flyer in her face that listed Serenity as a wanted ship - _thank… everything that they hadn't been able to identify her as more than Firefly class - _as he muttered things about the law and arrogance, whether he'd set them up. She didn't think so. He didn't have the imagination, and it wouldn't have been profitable. He'd passed them a job and she'd taken it because she needed it and it'd gone bad. It was the luck of the draw.

Options were few. She went through them in her head as they walked out of the cesspit that Godwin called home, Carver bitching the whole time about how he wasn't going to get paid, as though she had a choice in the matter, as though her mother wouldn't hunt her down and kill her if she set him adrift again, no matter that it'd been _his _choice to join the Browncoats with her, _his _choice to leave them for the wardens when she and Aveline had been trying to find a ship and _his _choice to end up lower down on the rungs of petty crime than _she _was.

Borros was too crowded, and the chance that Godwin had sold them out was… well it was one hundred percent, she had to admit it, although the slimey bastard would probably give them a _little _bit of a head start, for old times' sake. Other contacts were dead, or in dangerous territory, or likely to shoot her on sight.

"I figure we head for Whitefall and talk to Maeve," she said finally, as they approached Serenity. The ship looked particularly beautiful in the late afternoon Persephone light, and the stench of cooking dog and unwashed humans washed the taste of betrayal and disappointment from her mouth.

Aveline gave her a look. "Ma'am, we don't wanna deal with Maeve again."

"Why not?"

"She shot you."

Saoirse palmed her face. Always there were the little things. "Yeah, well, she did a bit, but you know with Mae it ain't personal…"

"She's a psychopath."

"She's got the money, she's far enough out that the Alliance won't blink and we know she needs the goods…"

"Aveline's right, sister, she's a psychopath."

"I always thought you thought she was pretty, brother."

"Doesn't mean she won't shoot you."

"What if I smile at her nicely?"

"Ma'am…"

"Aveline, you know we ain't got a whole lot of options here."

"I don't like it."

"We'll head to Whitefall. Final word."

She turned on her heel and continued towards the ship, hearing dual sighs behind her as she went.

* I need to give him fucking murder.

** It smells bad in here.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All the characters here are a miss-match of things that don't belong to me - namely Joss Whedon and Bioware. The only one who truly does is Saoirse Hawke, who has so many incarnations now I suspect she's going to develop some sort of split personality disorder._

_This is the first fic I've ever written that has art BEFORE IT'S EVEN STARTED, and I must thank the most gorgeous Uminoko for fueling my crazy notion that I could possibly write something worthy of Joss's Firefly universe with amazing artings. _

_Mae Surana is the property of the delectable Cave-Fatuam, who does artings and writes West Young Warden and demanded to be in charge of a moon in my head so she could shoot people without getting in trouble for it._

_Chinese translations done by the magnificent Ouyangdan, who is also my sounding board for stupid ideas. _


	3. Passengers

Saoirse bit the side of her cheek and nodded politely as the passengers were introduced. Shepherds and poncy doctors and some boy-man with a stutter and a whole lot of baggage in her cargo hold less than a foot away from her special compartment - it wasn't anything particularly new, but she was always jumpy about letting strange faces onto Serenity, sometimes she thought the ship knew who was to be trusted and who wasn't.

Finn, the doctor, was hiding something, there was no doubt about it, and it wasn't just because his accent marked him as from one of the centre planets, or that his buttons were shiny or that he oozed oilinness and nice hair and an eyebrow of doom when she dared to suggest he be parted from his worldly goods for more than a few hours. No one with that much money should be booking passage on a ship like Serenity, they had _cruisers _for his type, that had swimming pools and… fancy food on sticks.

But unless he was one of Godwin's men (and he doubted it, Godwin left a certain odour around anyone who dealt with him and Finn smelt clean - like lavender and starch) he was no threat to _her. _

The Shepherd, Vael, was another matter.

While they checked their things and she leant over the railing watching the furtive looks the stuttering Rolan was giving Finn as he pulled books and shirts out of a crate she caught a whiff of a familiar incense and a rustle of cloth. Her jaw worked as she turned to see Fenris.

"I see we have guests," he said softly and she had to repress a shiver at the voice. Intellectually, she knew he had companion training. Intellectually, she knew he used that voice on every one of his "clients".

Trouble with thinking things through intellectually was, her body didn't much like paying attention.

"Passengers," she said shortly.

"Evidently," he crooked his neck, smiling slightly over her shoulder, the faint lights of the hold glinting off the white lines that snaked across his skin and under his high collared robe. "I am afraid the Captain hasn't introduced us as yet, serah," he said.

Saoirse spun around to see Vael, the Shepherd, standing there with a speculative look on his face that she didn't like _at all._

"Shepherd Vael, this is our… ambassador. Fenris."

The shepherd was far too cheerful for his own good, a smile revealing perfect white teeth.

"I can safely say this is the first time we've had a preacher on board," Fenris said, smiling slightly and holding out a hand to shake.

"This'll be the first time I've met a foreign dignitary," Vael said, clearing his throat and Saoirse guffawed. "I've missed something funny….?"

Fenris lifted an eyebrow. "That's a matter of opinion," he said. "Ambassador is Saoirse's way of saying…"

"He's a whore," Saoirse interjected.

"I prefer the term companion myself," Fenris murmured, but there was a flash of teeth and a glare directed towards her as Vael dropped the hand he had offered like a piece of burnt meat.

"How's business?" Saoirse asked, grinning at him.

"None of yours," Fenris replied, and there was no hiding the snap of irritation in _that _response. She should have been happier to have scored a point there, but it was… strangely unsatisfying.

"He is our ambassador in a way," Saoirse continued, enjoying the shocked horror on Vael's face. "Plenty of planets don't let you dock without a good companion on board, and Fenris is one of the best… oh… I'm sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Excuse me," Fenris said, pushing past Vael and back towards his shuttle.

"Aren't you going to meet the others?" Saoirse called after him.

He didn't bother to turn his head when he made his reply. "Why don't you make sure they want to meet me first?"

"I ah…" Vael shifted from foot to foot. "Most companions are women aren't they?"

"Common misconception," Saoirse said, leaning casually against the railing and watching Fenris' retreating back. Even when he was irritated he moved with unconscious grace. _Conscious _grace, she corrected. Every single thing about him had been trained. It was always so hard to remember that. "There are just as many male ones, according to Fenris, they just tend to be more discreet about it."

"I had no idea…"

"I'd say you've lead a pretty sheltered life, Shepherd."

Something undefinable moved behind Vael's brown eyes and her interest perked a bit. "I'd say you're right, Captain," he said.

"Fenris is special in more ways than one," she said after a slight pause. "Most companions choose their…" she grimaced… "_vocation. _He was sent to them to be trained."

_"Sent _to learn how to be a…"

"Whore. Yes. Apparently his _owner _wanted him skilled enough to…. _service_ for him when he came of age. Don't look like that, Shepherd, you know slavery exists on the border planets, you're not _that _sheltered."

"Yet he practices as a companion?"

"Steady job. Good income," she shrugged. "Whatever I may think about their morality, the Companions hate slavery as much as the rest of us. More. They helped him escape, gave him the skills to survive away from his master… you can't really blame him for wanting to live a little, can you?"

"I…ah…"

She clapped him on the back. "Come now, Shepherd. You're here to spread the word to us heathens, aren't you? Best you know as much as possible about us before you try to convert us."

"You're not a woman of faith, Captain?"

"Hell no," she grinned at him. "After a while out here you realise the only thing you need to believe in is yourself. Ain't no imaginary friends in _my _sky gonna help me out if things go wrong. I've tried prayin' often enough - obviously I just ain't loud enough."

Vael arranged a prim expression on his face that made her lips quirk. "The sentiment behind the prayer should be pure."

"Ain't nothin' dirty 'bout _my _sentiments, Preacher Man."

She left him there, gape mouthed and silent - which was definitely how she preferred her religious personages, and made her way back to her cabin.

A day in the air made things better. They were _doing _not _sitting _and that was how she preferred it - dead in the water, stuck on a planet, that wasn't what she needed or _wanted._

The ship always felt better in space. On the ground she was awkward - gawky, like Bethany had been as a teenager, all knees and joints. In the black, she was a queen among ships, nimble, graceful, responding to Bell's commands like a dancer.

Saoirse could fly her. Of course she could - it'd just been her and Aveline when they'd bought her from the shipyards on Borros, five years ago, and scrounging a crew had been hard work, but worth it. Where Saoirse could get them from place to place, Bell could make Serenity _sing _- the vibrations of the deck plates under her feet as she walked like the finest music, the best dream.

She lay in her cot, listening to that hum - the hum that meant they were flying, free, and swallowed. She was betting a lot on Mae and Whitefall, and she wasn't entirely sure it was going to pay off.

Her comm beeped and she reached out a hand to flip it on. "What is it Bell?"

"Captain you're gonna want to come up here."

"Problem?"

"You could say that."

Bell had been trying to get through to Whitefall since they'd left Persephone - either Mae was giving her lip, or…

…something else had gone wrong.

She climbed up to the bridge, where Bell was leaning forward, chin on her hands as she stared at a monitor.

"Signal," the former pirate said shortly. "Somebody got on the cortex and hailed the nearest Alliance cruiser."

_Oh, now isn't that just _shiny.

_"Tell _me you scrambled it?"

_"Dang ran,"* _Bell rolled her eyes. "But there's no way of knowing how much got through, the alliance has a pin on us for sure…" Saoirse swore. At length. "We've got a mole on board," Bell said, dark eyes fixing on her, that ridiculous gold stud in her chin glinting in the monitors' light.

Saoirse sucked at her teeth, thinking of a doctor with too much money and something to hide. "I think you may be right."

_*"Of course I did."_


	4. Misunderstandings

As she suspected, when she got to the cargo hold, the doctor was bent over the enormous crate he'd packed, checking whatever it was - guns, explosives, Alliance soldiers or fluffy bunnies, she didn't know she didn't care, but she damned sure didn't want it all over her ship and so she spun him around to face her.

"Forget your toothpaste?" she said, a second before her fist connected with his jaw.

Watching someone go down as a direct result of her fist _never _got old, no matter how many fancy guns she'd owned, the satisfaction of punching someone was like a fine wine, it spread all through her body and made her smile, even as she shook her hand and blew on the knuckles.

"Are you out of your _mind?" _he squawked, clambering back up to his feet and wiping his mouth.

"Just about. What'd you tell them?"

"Tell who?"

She drew on him. "I've got exactly no time for games," she said. "What do they know?"

"You're a lunatic."

"And you're a goram fed."

"Hate to say it captain," the soft voice of the shepherd intruded on her up-to-now enjoyable hitting-and-intimidating time and she frowned, glancing his way to see… _oh that's not good _Rolan, the boy stutterer, with his own weapon drawn and pointing directly at _her. _"But you've got the wrong man."

She let out a breath. One bit of luck. That's all she asked for. One goram tiny bit of luck would _not _go astray in this 'verse… "Son of a _bitch," _she breathed.

"Drop that firearm Captain Hawke," Rolan said, no trace of his stutter evident any longer. She shook her head and tossed her gun aside.

"This is not my best day ever," she muttered.

"Florian Finneas Horatio Aldebrant, you are bound by law to stand down," Rolan said and Saoirse blinked a few times before letting out an incredulous chuckle.

She looked at the doctor next to her, who had raised his hands, shoulders slumping in defeat. "That's your _name?" _she said. The eyebrow of doom shot up. She _had _to learn how to do that - it was amazing. "What… sorry? You mean…" she waved to Rolan and Finn and shrugged again. "The doctor? Oh.. hey.. is there a reward?"

Rolan's eyes were feral and warning bells were going off in the back of Saoirse's brain, despite the relief she was feeling. "Get on the ground." Finn simply stared at him, and there was a muscle working in his jaw that made Saoirse wish she hadn't thrown her gun away… _"Get on the ground," _Rolan repeated.

"You're making a mistake," Finn said softly.

"You'd best get on the ground, son, the law man seems a mite twitchy." _Very _twitchy, actually. In her experience they tended to be a little bit more implacable rage and superiority and less… nervous arsehole.

"I think everyone could stand to calm down, here," Vael said. She wondered where he'd learned that tone of voice - exactly the right level of kind, fatherly concern to make them all feel like children who were in the wrong. Saoirse resisted it. Unfortunately, so did the fed.

"This isn't your business shepherd," he said.

"Boy's not going anywhere law man," Vael had both hands out, unthreatening, textbook stuff, right there. _Here's another story I've only got a couple of sentences of, _she thought. "As I understand it it's pretty cold outside."

"Not to worry," she said, smiling and leaning down towards her gun. _See, _she thought,_ I can do non-threatening too! _"We'll put Lord Fontleroy here in one of the passenger cells he won't make a peep…"

"Get the hell away from that weapon!" She jumped and stood upright again. _Oookay, maybe I can't…_ "Do you think I'm a complete backbirth? You're carrying a fugitive across interplanetary borders and you think I actually believe you're bringing medical supplies to Whitefall? As far as I care everyone on this ship is culpable."

There was a pregnant silence. She looked at him, at the gun in his hand, the expression on his face, and she bit her lip. "Well now, that has an effect on the landscape."

"We're very close to true stupidity here," Vael said. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _No preacher man, you've obviously never seen _true _stupidity…_

"We've got a cruiser on route to intercept so talk all you want," the fed said. "You got about twenty minutes."

"Might have less than that," she said.

The next minute never ever sorted itself out in her mind. Too much happened too quickly - like in the heat of battle with bullets and fire and ships and men and women screaming. She only knew that she didn't have _control. _Something needed to be done to get that control back.

"Yeah. _Threaten _me…" the fed's knuckles whitened on the trigger…

"….For God's sake!" Vael's voice hit a new pitch of desperation.

"…..You think I wouldn't shoot a shepherd? Back off!" the gun pointed away from her briefly but it wasn't long enough for anything _useful…_

She made a grab for the doctor, "…..just _take_ the kid…" she shouted…

"Get your _hands off…" _Finn.

_"Stand the hell down…" _The Fed.

_"I'm not going to stand here where there is…" _Preacher.

"What is going…?" Merrill's voice. _What is she doing here…?_

The gunshot, the Shepherd attacking Rolan, the Doctor's surprisingly _not _skinny arm clasped firmly in her hand, the confusion, all of this fades into insignificance when she sees the splash of blood on Merrill's overalls - how the hell had he managed to shoot _Merrill _and when did everyone else get here and…

_"Zhe shi bu de liao,"* _she muttered, making her way to Merrill's side, shoving the doctor away.

_"Merrill!" _Carver was there, and so was Fenris, and Saoirse saw Aveline covering Rolan.. or was it Carver? with her shotgun. The _Shepherd _had laid him out - the _Shepherd _was telling Carver he wasn't allowed to kill the man, and although Saoirse wasn't keen on having a dead law man in their hold seeing Merrill's pale, terrified face and watching blood leaking over Fenris' immaculate brocaded cheongsam made parts of her _rage._

The doctor was there. Some of the rage bled away as she watched him work - neat, precise hands, no fear of blood - the man knew what he was doing and she remembered he'd said he was a _trauma _surgeon - if there was anything about this that wasn't traumatic she'd love to know it but when the intercom bleeped and Bell said there was an incoming cruiser and suddenly Finn was standing up and _not helping Merrill _Saoirse felt the tide of rage threatening to break once again.

"Saoirse," Fenris' voice was calm, measured… _trained. _"Saoirse you have to do as he says."

"Hell with that!"

"Saoirse, Merrill is going to _die."_

"You're a goram _doctor!"_

Finn's mouth twisted in self loathing. He knows, she thought, he knows he's betraying everything he stands for and he's_ still going to do it._

Her nostrils flared and she started to shout at Fenris but then Merrill screamed and she couldn't hear or see anything but Serenity Valley and Merrill wasn't Merrill any more she was _Bethany _and god damn it all, she wasn't going to let her die this time…

"Aveline. Tell Bell to turn the ship around."

Finn's eyes cleared and he lunged towards Merrill - perhaps, maybe the bluff _was _just a bluff but she wasn't a medical woman, she didn't know - the way Finn obviously knew - exactly what was needed to keep Merrill alive or at least give her a chance and it was a risk she just…

…hadn't been able to take.

They carried Merrill to the infirmary and Saoirse stayed, with Fenris (who was more familiar with medical procedures than a soldier who'd once dug a bullet out of her own thigh with a penknife) to make sure the doctor did his work and did it well. She trusted Aveline to have dealt with the fed, trusted Bell to keep them out of the hands of the cruiser, trusted her _crew _to do their _jobs, _but she felt twitchy, not just from the possibility of losing Merrill - the girl could make the engine work with nothing but a couple of bolts and a truck load of enthusiasm, but because things were spiraling out of control and much as she lived this life because she hated the thought of being tied down - to a planet, to a job, to an idealogy - there was living dangerously and living _crazily _and she didn't know if they'd finally tipped over into the latter…

When Finn stripped off the gloves and let out a heavy sigh Saoirse sucked at her teeth.

"There's nothing more I can do until she stabilises," he said.

"Will she?"

"I can't say…"

"I want to know what's going on here," Fenris said, staring hard at Finn with a gaze that she didn't doubt was making the doctor feel like a three year old.

"Then why don't we find out?" she said, heading out towards the cargo hold with determined steps. She could hear Fenris and Carver behind her, felt the desperate fingers of the doctor on her arm as she walked, but she shook him off, stalking towards the crate that the Doctor had been so… _meticulous _about from the very moment they took it on board. _That _was where the secret was - that was what had driven a man, who she suspected was, underneath all the pomp and money, _good _in a way that would only cause trouble for her and hers, to do despicable things.

"No, stay away from that!" The doctor's voice was high and desperate, but he was held securely by the massive arms of Carver and she nodded, glad, once again, to have him at her back.

"Where's the fed?" she asked.

"Secure," Carver replied, showing his teeth. "Shepherd's with him. Seems to think he's not safe with me."

She smiled slightly and eyed Finn. "Well. Let's see what a man like you would kill for." She pulled the crate out - it was surprisingly heavy - even for its size, and there was some sort of machinery attached to it - cold storage, she'd thought at first, although now she wasn't so sure. It wasn't hard to open, though, which in hindsight was a mistake on the Doctor's part, or at least she thought so, until the seals came loose and the clouds of steam cleared and she could see what was inside.

A man. Naked. Curled around in a ball of pale skin and gold-red hair and freckles in interesting places.

Her brain, which up to now had been racing ahead in leaps and bounds of speculation and logic spluttered to a halt. She looked up at the Doctor, who had his eyes closed in despair, then back down at the curled figure in the crate.

"Huh," she said.

*This is a mess.


	5. Our Kind of Crazy

"I need to check his vitals," Finn said, struggling against Carver's slackening grip. "He's not supposed to wake up for another week - the shock…"

"The shock of what? Waking up? Finding he's been sold to some border moon baron?" There was a pool of white hot fury in her gut - was this what had happened to Fenris? Fenris' parents? She'd never got the full story of _how _he'd ended up in Danarius' hands in the first place but a picture was rapidly forming in her head and she didn't like _any _of the bits of it… "I'm sorry, was this one for you? Is it true love? Because you do seem a little…."

The hand around her throat was faster than anything she'd ever come across - faster than Aveline's draw, faster than Bell talking her way out of a fist fight. The strength behind it was inhuman, the skin of the hand and the arm attached to it clammy with sweat. She choked, hands suddenly unable to function enough to get to her gun.

"Saoirse!" Carver shouted, lunging forward, letting go of the doctor, who had stopped dead, eyes wide open and staring.

"Stay back!" she could feel that voice boom through her chest cavity, rumbling against her. The grip around her throat lessened slightly so she was no longer seeing stars, but it was joined by another arm around her waist, just as strong as the first. "Keep away."

Carver stopped dead. There was something about that voice that compelled obedience.

"Anders?" Finn took a few steps forward, and Saoirse felt the arm around her neck jerk, then loosen further. "Anders, it's me."

She heard the man behind her swallow. "Finn?"

"It's ok, Anders. It's ok! It's me…"

She was pulled backwards a few more steps, away from the crate, towards the wall. "Finn… Finn they …"

"Let her go, Anders."

He stopped. She felt breath on the back of her neck, and trembling. "She…"

"She's not going to hurt us," Finn said, taking more steps towards them and giving Saoirse a pleading look. "I promise, Anders."

_"Finn." _The word sounded like it was being dragged out of him from someplace dark and terrible, and he pushed her forward and away from him. She spun, drawing as she did so to point her gun at him but he was folded back in on himself, sinking to the ground, too-thin arms wrapping around long legs. Finn pushed past her and knelt in front of him, his careful veneer of civilisation broken open and simple pain, raw and naked on his face. _"Finn they talked to me they kept talking and I couldn't stop them…"_

"It's all right. Anders, it's all right I'm here. We're safe now."

Finn gently pulled his head upward and Saoirse could see, then, wide whiskey coloured eyes and stubble smattered across a sharp jaw. Her gun drooped. She wasn't going to shoot them. Not now.

"What the hell is this?" she said. Finn looked behind him to her, absently smoothing loose hair back from the other man's shoulder in a gesture so familiar, so caring that she almost winced at intruding on such intimacy.

"This is my brother," he said softly.

They put him in the infirmary, next to Merrill. He didn't speak again, just blindly followed Finn. Fenris had found him a robe to wear from his ridiculously large collection of fancy clothing, and although hairy legs poked out of the bottom (it was far too short) at least he was just crazy now and not _naked _and crazy, which she had to admit had been somewhat distracting.

She wasn't entirely happy with having the mentally unstable person in the same room as her injured engineer, but Finn was gentle and caring and spoke in a low voice to his brother. "He won't harm her," he said to Saoirse. "You have my word. He's still groggy from the suspension - he'll want to sleep for a good twelve hours. You really don't need…."

"Fine. I don't want him deciding to use Merrill as a human shield if he wakes up and forgets where he is again."

Finn swallowed. "He was afraid. They had him for _years _you can't blame him for being…"

"I think we might be starting this story in the middle, doctor," she said softly. Anders… if that was his name, had sunk back onto the spare cot, eyes closing. He had absurdly long lashes, she had time to think. He looked younger sleeping, too. Younger than she was. Younger than Finn, although the feral creature in the hold had looked far, far older. Finn took a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair.

"Fine," he said. "I'll fill you in. Just… let me make sure he's all right and I'll… "

"Meet me in the mess hall, Doctor," she said. "If you can guarantee your brother will be asleep long enough to give us the full story?"

He gave a nervous laugh. "It's… it's not that long, Captain," he said. "Just…." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Just unfortunate."

"We're not going anywhere, Doc," she said, then nodded towards the figure on the bed. "Go see to your brother. We'll be waiting."

Finn swallowed, and nodded, making his way back to his brother with shaking hands. She watched them, for a moment, before turning and finding her own brother standing directly behind her, arms folded and his _I'm going to talk to you _face on.

"Not just yet, Carver," she said. "Go check on Bell, make sure we're clear of that cruiser. Then we can listen to the story behind this." She sighed as she watched Carver go and scratched the back of her neck. "It better be good."

In the mess hall, Finn stood in front of them, somewhat restored to his former self. The tilt of his head still spoke of a man who was used to having things _done for him _but somehow he had got from _there _to _here _and she wanted very _very _much to understand how.

"I am very smart," he began. "I went to the best medical school in Osiris - top three percent of my class. Finished my internship in eight months. Gifted, I think is the term…" he swallowed and looked down at his hands - long fingered, pale, elegant. "So when I tell you that my little brother makes me look like… an idiot child, I want you to understand my full meaning."

Finn's voice was measured as he explained. A life of privilege and money and everything the rest of them had looked on and envied but pretended to despise. A younger brother, bright and brilliant and cherished. A school that offered him everything he thought he wanted, but that was in fact, a front for something much more sinister.

It was like something out of a novel - not that she read novels, not any more, real life was weird enough, but she would imagine this tragic story could sell well on the central planets - a tragic tale of siblings who cared more for each other than for the 'verse that separated them. He should have been a younger sister, though, she thought to herself, someone more vulnerable and less… (she remembered that vice like grip)…

…freakishly strong.

"What happened to him there?" Vael asked.

"I don't know exactly what they did to him," Finn said, sounding anguished. "I've only just… I didn't get to ask before we left and he's been in stasis since. I ah… I need to… " he closed his eyes and shuddered. "He wouldn't hurt anyone. He was the gentlest soul you'd ever meet - what he did to you in the hold… Captain… that… that _wasn't _my brother."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Hate to tell you, doctor, but it sure as hell _felt _like it was him." She gestured to her bruised neck.

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"That's quite a story son," Vael said.

"Yeah," she said, rubbing her forehead and sighing. "It's a tale of woe, very stirring, but in the meantime you've heaped a world of trouble on me and mine…"

Finn shook his head, still wringing his hands. "I never thought…"

"No," she cut him off sharply. "I don't imagine you thought. In consequence of which we've got a kidnapped federal officer on board we got the alliance hot on our trail and _Merrill…"_

"How much does the Alliance know?" Aveline asked.

"Can't say," Bell said, uncharacteristically grim. "I killed the message pretty quick - they might just have our position…"

"Or they might have personal profiles on every one of us. Until that fed wakes up we won't know."

"So what do we do?" Carver asked.

"The job. We finish the job. We've had word from Mae, she's waiting for us. We slip around to Whitefall, make the deal, get out. Keep flying."

"What about us?" Finn asked.

"If Merrill comes through, you and your brother will get off at Whitefall."

"If she doesn't?"

She looked at him, making very sure that he could read the determination in her eyes. "Then you're getting off a mite sooner."

They objected. She clenched her fists by the sides of her body, thinking of Bethany, of her father, of Serenity Valley - _always, always Serenity _and of choices made and unmade. The doctor made his choice. He needed to understand the consequences of that choice and her crew….. well, _they _needed to know who was in charge.

_"Da jia bi zui!"* _she shouted. They stopped. She didn't use her shouty voice often, but when she did…

…it usually got results.

"The way it is is the way it is," she said finally, looking at each of them in turn. "We've got to deal with what's in front of us."

Fenris was glaring at her. "Saoirse you know those two will not survive a day on Whitefall." _She would not be taken in by that green gaze. She would _not. "If you throw them out, I shall leave too."

She looked at him, his immaculately pressed clothes, the delicate lines of his tattoos, the strong line of his jaw.

He wasn't one of them. He never had been, and he never would be.

"It might be best you do," she said softly. "You ain't a part of this business."

She turned away before she could see if those words had hurt. She didn't know if she actually wanted them to.

Not really.

As she stalked down the corridor she heard boots on the metal plates behind her.

"What business is that exactly?" Finn said. She turned back to him, eyes narrowing. "I'm a dead man, I can't know? Is it gold? Drugs? Piracy? What is it that makes you so afraid of the alliance?"

_Afraid. _"You don't want to go down this road with me, _boy."_

"Oh, you're _not _afraid of them? I already know you'd sell me out to them for a pat on the head. Hell, you should probably be working for them you certainly fit the profi…."

Her fist swung without thought. It shouldn't be so satisfying to hit someone. But it really, _truly _was.

He hit the deck plates and she shook her hand again, looking up to see Carver's smirking face.

"Saw that comin'," he said. She sighed.

"Come on brother. We've got a fed to interrogate."

He grinned.

*_Shut the hell up._


	6. Interrogations

Carver Hawke was never one for complex situations. If you couldn't shoot it, eat it or screw it it wasn't worth the effort. And doing any of those things (for him) usually took money.

Most of his life he'd spent with his mother. His sister - older, better, more capable, helped their father with his business while his mother looked after him and Bethany.

When they'd joined the revolution, Saoirse had shouted at them. For a good long while. Then she'd handed him a gun and started giving him orders.

He liked to think he'd adjusted to that.

Bethany never had.

After Serenity Valley he'd run. Not stopped to see where Aveline and his sister went. He just wanted _out, away from her _away from the woman he'd never really known and sure as hell never cared for.

When she'd turned up four years later he'd laughed, and taken her offer to go with him again. He liked to think he was wiser now than he had been back then, and that was why he'd decided flying around on Serenity was a better deal than beating up idiots for cash.

Not that he _minded _being the muscle in an operation, but Saoirse had given him a better offer, his own bunk, a rack for Celene and his other guns and the promise of money, sometime in the future. The money thing… never quite came through, but he figured the rest of it made up for that. Mostly.

The best thing about it was, every now and then, he still got to beat up an idiot. Saoirse was perfectly capable of doing the same thing, of course, but while she was sturdy for a girl, she didn't loom quite as well as six foot six of solid Carver did, and she liked to use the tools she had available.

He'd tied up Rolan in one of the guest's quarters, under the watchful eye of the preacher, who had objected when Carver had tried to pull the ropes a bit tighter than was strictly necessary, demonstrating a knowledge of the proper way to do things like that that made Carver wonder a bit about what they taught in preacher school these days or whether Vael was one for _extra curricular _studies. He hadn't even let Carver give the guy the backhand across the face he richly deserved and Carver was itching for another chance at the guy.

His sister was going to give him one.

There were days when he loved his job.

Saoirse ripped the duct tape off the fed's mouth and gave him a cheerful smile.

"I'm in a tricky position," she said, straightening up and letting the grin fade. "I guess you know. Got me a boatload of terribly strange folk makin' my life a little more interesting than I generally like. Chief among them, an Alliance mole who likes to shoot at girls when he gets nervous." The fed looked down at that - guilt, real or feigned, Carver didn't particularly care. He'd shot Merrill. If Carver had his way at the end of this he'd be a puddle of red slime on the deck.

"Now I gotta know how close the Alliance is," Saoirse was continuing. "_Exactly_ how much you told them before Bell scrambled your call. So. I've given Carver here the job of finding out."

Carver's grin was the same as his sister's as he pulled his knife. "She was unspecific as to how," he said. The fed's eyes focused on the metal of his knife as it caught the dim light of the cabin and his sister squeezed his arm as she turned to go.

"Now you only got to scare him," she said softly.

"Pain is scary."

There was that slight twitch of her lips that he could never tell was amusement or contempt, before she shook her head. "Just do it right." She left with a warning look and he stopped himself from rolling his eyes before turning back to the fed - Rolan is name was. Sanctimonious piece of shit alliance mole, Carver _wanted _o do some damage to him, especially as he seemed determined to fix him with the most patronizing of glares.

Carver _wasn't _stupid. There were some things he knew better than anyone, and he could smell cowardice from miles away.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?"

Carver sat, looking at the man. They'd done a good job of making him look insignificant. Just like his sister, Carver had pegged the doctor as the one most likely to be a plant, although he'd also had a sneaking suspicion about the preacher that hadn't entirely been laid to rest. "Gee," he said. "I've never been in trouble with the law before."

Rolan's eyes narrowed. "Not like this you haven't. You think this is just a smuggling rap? The package that boy is carrying…"

Carver raised an eyebrow. "It's a _man_. Guess he's a good lookin' one too, if you like that sort of thing." He paused. "Not that _I _do. But I guess he's just _your _type isn't he?"

The fed's nostrils flared. He didn't like that implication, that was clear enough. Carver tucked that thought away for later. "That _man_ is a precious commodity. They'll come after him. Long after you bury me they'll be coming…"

Carver grinned and tapped the man's knee with his knife. "Huh… I'm not gonna _kill _you, Rolan… What's your first name?"

He pursed his lips, looking uncertain."Lawrence."

"Lawrence? No." Carver leant forward so he could just about smell the man's breath - protein and tomato - the guy had _sat at their table _and _eaten their food _and he had enough of his mother in him to think that was just plain _rude._ "Just gonna cut on you tell you tell me how much they know…"

The fed rolled his eyes and spewed out a stream of babble. "They know _everything_, they know every name every record, they know how many _nose hairs _you've got."

In the back of Carver's head, wheels were spinning - slowly, granted, but they were still spinning. Nothing about this situation was normal. Nothing about it was _good _or _easy _and Merrill was stuck in the infirmary and there was no knowing if she'd pull through and Carver didn't want to look at _that _thought too closely - there were girls and there were girls and Merrill was their engineer and the most damned cheerful thing that he'd ever met and it wasn't _right _that she was the one who was paying for something she couldn't control…

The Captain should have been the one to get that bullet. The doctor. His goram crazy assed, naked, _brother. _But Merrill was the one paying the price and she hadn't done _anything _worse than take a job offer from his sister to get off some shithole moon where she'd be under her father's thumb forever and it…

…wasn't fair.

Carver knew fair.

He didn't think this fed knew much at all, though.

"Uh, see now they don't know a damn thing - it's all over your face and I ain't…." he sighed and shook his head. "I was gonna get me a ear, too." The fed winced and Carver grinned. "Aren't you an officer of the law? Well don't they teach you how to withstand interrogation? You can't even tell a damn lie!"

The fed looked down. Scared now. Carver had him. "Ok," hesaid. "I can see you're not an idiot."

Carver laughed. "Wish I could say the same Lawrence, but this…." he shook his head and clicked his tongue, "this is as disappointing as hell."

The calculating look that crossed the fed's face meant Carver pretty much knew what he was going to say next and he smiled in anticipation. "Let me speak a language you will understand," he said. "Money. This man is worth a lot of money, I mean a _lot._ You kill me? There's nothing. But, if you help me out, you'll have enough to buy your own ship." His lips lifted in a sneer of contempt and Carver pursed his lips. "A better one than this piece of crap."

He was lucky Saoirse wasn't here. Or Isabela. They didn't take kindly to people insulting Serenity. They also wouldn't take kindly to alliance moles giving him job offers, but again, they weren't here.

"Does helping you out mean turning on the captain?" _The captain. _

_My sister. _

"Yes it does."

_Well now. There's a thing._


	7. Faith

The call came after she'd decided - finally - to attempt to get some sleep. It was easier than trying to second guess what Carver was doing to the fed. Easier than trying to talk to Fenris, or watch the doctor checking on Merrill. Easier than being in a room with the doctor's brother, who even asleep seemed to have an air of feral savagery.

"How did they find us?" she said, climbing up the stairs to the cockpit. Bela swiveled in her chair, the dim lights from the controls not enough to fully illuminate her current ridiculous shirt, although Saoirse could still see right down her cleavage. "You do know that there are buttons above the midrif on that thing, don't you?"

"Ha. Yes. And no. It's not Alliance."

"You sure?" The look Bela gave her could have melted ice, reminding her again that while there _were _things she knew more about than ships they nearly all involved the bedroom and _that _was a thought that would get her a punch in the head from her more-than-a-little jealous lieutenant.

"It's a smaller vessel," her pilot said, studying the readouts, hands flying.

"Commercial?"

"Yeah, I'm reading it as an older model…." Bela's face screwed up in confusion… "trans-u…"

"I didn't think trans-us still operated."

"They don't."

She felt her heart thump, _hard _in her chest. "Give me a visual."

"They're still too far out…"

"Get me _something."_

Bela, all trace of her smile gone, turned and started flicking switches. She was, without a doubt, the best pilot Saoirse had ever come across, even though she'd not flown a Firefly before stepping into Serenity she remembered how… right she'd looked, in her ridiculous shirt with her collection of piercings and her sultry attitude, sitting in the squeaky pilot's chair and telling Saoirse exactly how much she was going to pay her…

Aveline had hated her on sight.

"I'm reading a lot of radiation," Bell said, frowning now. "They're running without core containment…that's…. _kwong-juh duh…_ that's _suicide…."_

Saoirse's heart thumped even harder and she looked out into space to see the faint red glow that was their pursuer. _This is my ship, _she thought. _My crew. My sky._

"Reavers," she breathed.

Isabela's hands were stilled over the controls and her dark eyes were wide with fear. "Are we going to tell the others?"

Saoirse thought of the doctor and his brother, of Merrill in Engineering…

_Of Fenris in his shuttle, dead on the floor, unrecognisable. The soft white of his hair stained with blood, the silk of his finery ruined, the delicate scent of whatever that incense he burned blotted out by the smell of dead things…_

She took a shaky breath. _We're all meat to them._

She reached up and pressed the comm button. Everyone deserved to know what they might be facing. Everyone deserved some say in how they met their end.

"This is the captain. We're passing another ship. Looks to be reavers. From the size, probably a raiding party." She took a breath, the echoes of her voice over comm fading into nothing. The noise of the engine seemed far louder than usual. "Could be they're headed somewhere particular. Could be they already hit someone and they're full up. So, everyone stay calm. We try to run they'll have to chase us, that's their way. We're holding course. Should be passing them in a minute. So. We'll see what they do." She flicked the comm off and looked down at Bela, who was staring at the screen as though she could will what was written there to change, then flicked the comm back on again. "Aveline you come up to the bridge."

Saoirse had been in a lot of tight spots in her life. Pinned down by enemy fire in Serenity Valley was the immediate thing that came to mind, although there had been other times as well - times when she'd been forced to put herself in the way of harm, times when she'd had to leave her own soldiers to fates she couldn't even guess at, times when she'd been wounded, times when she'd been the one to do the wounding, but the next five minutes, she was absolutely certain, would be the most terrifying of her life.

She didn't look when she heard the tread of Aveline's boots on the stairs, only sensed movement as Bela reached up to take her wife's hand.

The solid presence of her lieutenant at her back was more comforting than she'd thought it would be. Aveline would fight to defend Bell, to defend Saoirse too, and even though Saoirse knew how that fight would end the fact that she was so certain of at least one of her people made it a little bit easier to watch the ship come closer.

Isabela reached up one, slender brown arm. Her voice was flat and serious, reminding Saoirse of exactly how much calm competence there was under that flashy exterior.

"There's the magnetic grappler," she said. "They grab hold of us with that…"

She could almost hear the clang of metal that would signify their capture. "Bell I don't need to know. Just tell me if they alter course."

The moment stretched as the ship passed close. She was bigger than Serenity, pits and scars across her hull and the bright orange light of the uncontained core burnt patterns into her retina as she stared. She couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes away. A small part of her - a _very _small part, wanted to pray for their safety. Her eyes kept zeroing back on the grappler that Bela had pointed out, but it stayed tucked in against the other ship's hull.

_What are they thinking? Have they even seen us? Do they even _think _in what's left of their crazy brains?_

Bela's chair squeaked as she sat back suddenly, a beautiful grin spreading across her face. "They're holding course," she said. Saoirse was sure she only imagined Serenity herself breathing a sigh of relief, but the tension level certainly lessened. "I guess they weren't hungry," Bela continued, and Aveline punched her lightly on the arm, grinning, but Bela's face was still serious. She eyed Saoirse, one eyebrow twitching. "Didn't expect to see them here."

"They're pushing out further every year too," Aveline said.

"Gettin' awful crowded in my sky," Saoirse muttered.

It didn't take a genius to realise that Aveline and Bela would appreciate a little alone time in the aftermath of almost-getting-eaten, so Saoirse excused herself and headed back down to the medical bay to check on Merrill. The little engineer was asleep when she went in, long black lashes resting on her too-pale cheeks, the marks of her tattoo looking even darker than usual. Saoirse didn't think she'd ever seen Merrill so quiet and still and she looked away, not wanting to see it any longer.

Unfortunately the only other place to look was the aligning cot, where the doctor's brother still lay. If it weren't for the brush of stubble across his jaw the boy would look younger than Merrill in the low light of the room, but Saoirse could remember the strength of that arm across her neck, and how tall and solid he had been at her back, and reminded herself very forcefully that whatever else he was, this boy… was not safe.

"Hey cap'n."

Merrill's voice was soft, but steady, and she turned to see her big green eyes open and the pink lips turned upwards in a smile.

"Hey. Morning Merrill, what's the news?"

"I'm shiny, captn! A. O. K!" she spoke slowly. Saoirse knew the doctor had given her a lot of painkillers, the little engineer was probably flying higher than Serenity at the moment. "I can't feel much below my belly though. It's getting cold."

She tried to ignore the small rush of fear that came at those words and turned to get a blanket from a nearby chair. "Well, you just gotta rest," she said as she tucked the blanket around Merrill's middle. "Something's gonna break down on this boat real soon. Who else have I got to fix it?"

"Don't you worry none. Doc fixed me up pretty well." Merrill's eyes glinted and her smile turned sly. "He's _nice."_

She chuckled. _Oh, don't you let my brother hear that._ "Don't go working too hard on that crush,_ mei mei*_. Doc won't be with us for long."

"You're nice too."

Merrill. She was clueless, but somehow it didn't matter. "No I'm not. I'm a mean old lady."

"He wasn't gonna let me die. He was just tryin' to…" she frowned, looking down at the blanket over her body, then reached out a hand to Saoirse's arm and patted it. "It's nobody's fault. Just… promise me you'll remember that."

_Not true, _she thought, remembering the fed locked away in the passenger quarters. _There's only one that shot you. _"I'll keep it in mind."

"You _are_ a nice lady, captn," Merrill was wandering now, the grip on her hand getting looser. "Always lookin' after us. You just…. gotta have faith in people." She turned her head to look the the boy on the other cot. "He doesn't look much like his brother, does he?" Saoirse turned to look at the sleeping boy and sucked at her cheek, opening her mouth to say something about sibling resemblance being not necessary - she refused to believe she looked anything like Carver, for example, but Merrill's fingers slipped through hers and her voice trailed off…

…when she looked back down at the small face, the green eyes were closed and Merrill was still.

*_little sister_


End file.
